Tell Me Another Word for Hero
by eggsaladstain
Summary: "Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?" –Charles Bukowski. This is the story of Adam, the boy he was, the family that made him, and the man he grew up to be. (Companion fic to Call Me By My Name)


**I.**

The baby's mother is worried when she learns she's having a boy because her husband is a complicated man, and she can't help wondering what parts of him her son will inherit. Will her child be kind, like the man she first fell in love with, or bitter, like the man her husband has become, hardened by years of drink and debt and stress?

She wonders and she worries, all before her son is ever born, but then she sees him on the ultrasound, and her fears disappear as quickly as they came. He is so small, so perfect, and she loves him already.

When she leaves the doctor's office, she carries his photograph in her hand and a promise in her heart.

She will love him no matter what.

...

The baby's father is drunk when his wife tells him the news.

He doesn't particularly want a child, but better a son than a daughter. A son, he can raise in his own image and shape into a man to carry his name and legacy. Yes, a son, he can work with, and he grabs his wife by the wrist, pressing a rough kiss to her cheek.

 _Take care of my boy_ , he whispers, and it sounds like something any loving father would say, but she knows better than that.

When he lets go, his fingers leave bruises on her skin.

It is a threat.

...

The day the baby is born, his mother is alone in the delivery room.

She does not know where her husband has gone, and as she breathes through the pain, she doesn't particularly care. She does not need him for this. She will soon hold her boy in her arms, and that is enough.

The labor seems to last forever, and she worries that something has gone wrong, but the doctor keeps telling her to push, so she does, and she does, and she does, and then she hears a baby's voice wailing. It's the most wonderful sound she's ever heard.

When he is finally placed in her arms, she takes one look at him – soft and perfect and beautiful as can be – and she names him after her late father.

He was the first man she ever loved.

Her son, Adam, will be the last.

...

The first great tragedy of Adam's life is that he never gets to meet the man who gave him his name.

Perhaps everything would have been different if he had.

Had his grandfather lived, he would have taught him how to garden, how to cook, how to play music. He would have taught him that there is more to being a man than the size of your gun and the weight you can lift and the strength of your fists.

But he dies a year before Adam is born.

So Adam learns from his father.

...

Adam's father has a very specific vision of the kind of man his son will be. Not just a man, but a soldier.

As soon as he's old enough, his father takes him camping and teaches him all the things he believes a young boy should know – how to kill an animal, how to fire a gun, how to throw a punch. And Adam is still young, still impressionable, still desperate for his father's approval, so he does everything he's told, even though he does not enjoy doing them. He doesn't like hunting or shooting or fighting, he doesn't even really like camping. He would much rather read a book or draw pictures or watch the sunset.

But he can't tell his father that.

So he goes with him into the woods and learns how to pitch a tent and start a fire and skin a rabbit. And after his father falls asleep, he sneaks back outside and sits in the dark, counting the stars. He likes them because they remind him there is a great big world out there, a world bigger than he'll ever know. He likes the stars because they remind him he isn't alone.

His father doesn't share his interests, and he smacks his son on the head every time he catches him gazing up at the sky.

 _Get your head out the clouds_ , he says scornfully. _How are you ever going to be a soldier if you keep wasting your time like that?_

Adam doesn't want to be a soldier. He never has.

But his father will never allow that.

...

His father doesn't share his love for the stars, but his mother does.

She likes to sit out on the porch in the evening, and if Adam's still awake, she lets him join her. She pulls him into her lap and wraps her arms around him as she tells him stories of the gods and kings who live up in the sky. His favorite story is the one of Perseus, the hero who slays monsters, and he asks her to repeat it again and again and again.

Pretty soon, he knows where all the constellations are, and it makes him feel safe, knowing that they are always there, always shining, always watching.

When he sleeps, he dreams of the stars.

...

Here's the thing about boys like Adam, boys with gentle hands and kind eyes and soft hearts.

The world is cruel to them.

It makes weapons of them whether they like it or not.

...

When Adam is eight years old, he dares to disagree with his father for the very first time.

One of the neighborhood kids accidentally knocks over their mailbox, and his father tells him to find that boy and make him pay. He has been drinking all night, as he does most nights, and when he drinks, he speaks of violence.

Adam sets down his fork and looks his father in the eyes. When he speaks, his voice is steady. _No._

A deafening silence descends over the kitchen, broken only by his mother's sharp intake of breath. She looks like she's going to be sick, and he feels like he might be as he watches his father's face contort in anger. Before he can say another word, a rough hand collides with his cheek and the force of it throws him out of his seat.

The room erupts into chaos, his father pummeling him with his fists, his mother screaming at him to stop. Adam feels her arms around him, trying to pull him away, and she succeeds, but at a cost.

His father turns all his anger onto her and wraps his fingers around her neck, yelling and cursing that she made his son weak. When Adam sees this, a white-hot rage explodes in his chest, and he grabs a piece of glass, driving it into his father's hand.

The man screams, and there is a part of Adam that laughs.

...

Many years later, he still remembers that moment with perfect clarity.

It's the first time he meets the darkness, the first time he feeds it.

It won't be the last.

...

Perhaps his father realizes he went too far. Or perhaps he saw something in his son that scared even him.

Either way, he returns from work the next day with flowers and toys and apologies. Adam is still young, and he doesn't quite understand the change in behavior, but his mother accepts the gifts and decides to forgive him, so Adam does too. He is still young, still naïve, still hopeful for the future, so when they say things will be better, he believes it.

For a while, they really are.

There is no more liquor in the house, and they take camping trips on the weekends, and they eat dinner together every night, talking and laughing around the table. They are like any other happy family, and soon he gains a sister, then another, then another.

Things get worse after that.

...

After his youngest sister is born, his father falls back into his old ways.

He has never wanted children, and now he has four, and it's not long before he's staying out late and coming home drunk and yelling loud enough to wake the neighbors.

By this time, Adam is no longer a boy.

He is a young man tempered by a heavy life, made strong by summers spent working on his uncle's farm. It gets harder and harder for him to tolerate his father's wrath, but he bites his tongue and does it anyway, not for his own sake, but for his mother and his sisters. He takes the beatings so they don't have to, and after a while, he can barely feel the pain.

His sisters are too young to understand what he endures on their behalf. They only know that sometimes he bleeds and sometimes he hurts, and they don't know how to make it stop, but that doesn't keep them from trying.

They share their toys with him and help him clean his cuts and every day, they make him laugh. They are the only ones who still can.

Adam loves his sisters.

He is never happier than when he's braiding their hair and walking them to school and reading them to sleep at night. He loves being their brother, their protector, and he takes his duty seriously. He would spend every second of every day watching over them if he could.

But he can't.

The family needs money and he needs time away from the house, so he takes a job after school and works nights, weekends, and holidays too. More often than not, he comes home late, long after everyone else is asleep.

One night, his youngest sister is still awake when he returns, and she asks him why he's not afraid to walk home alone in the dark. Adam tells her that he does get scared sometimes, but it's okay, because he knows she's waiting for him to come back.

She starts leaving the light on in her room after that, and no matter what time he comes home, she jumps out of bed to tell him goodnight.

He gets used to it, the light in her window.

It's like a piece of his heart.

...

Adam isn't there when his sister dies.

He's at work, halfway through his shift, when his boss tells him he has a call and hands him the phone. His mother's voice is shaking on the other line, and he can barely make out what she's saying, but the one word he does hear is _hospital_.

He races there as fast as he can, and his stomach sinks when he turns the corner and sees a doctor shaking his head as his mother collapses to the floor. Adam has lived through a lot in his short life, but he has never lived through anything like this. He doesn't know what else to do, so he pulls his mother up and holds her while she cries.

Adam doesn't cry.

Not when they take the body away, not when he helps his mother with the paperwork, not when they leave the hospital. He doesn't cry until they make it back home and he steps out of the car and sees the house.

His sister is dead.

He failed to protect her.

And now, the light is out.

...

They bury his youngest sister on a sunny summer day, and after the funeral, everyone in town lines up to tell his family how sorry they are. His mother and sisters cry quietly, and his father is actually sober, and Adam stands there, still and quiet, waiting for it to be over.

 _What a terrible loss_ , the neighbors say. _What a tragic accident._

And Adam has to bite his tongue as his hands curl into fists at his sides.

They call it an accident, but he knows it's his father's fault.

...

A year after his sister dies, Adam gets a scholarship to go to college.

He is a good student, smart and dedicated, and anyone can see that he has the potential to accomplish great things. It should be a dream come true, a chance for him to leave everything behind – his small town, his broken home, his cruel father.

But it's not just his father he would be leaving – it would be his mother and sisters too.

He throws the papers in the trash.

And this is another tragedy, that Adam loves them so much.

...

This is another tragedy – that he loves them, that it is not enough.

...

The day Adam turns eighteen, he gets home, exhausted and annoyed after a long shift at work. He goes up to his room, looking forward to a moment of peace and quiet, but when he opens the door, his sisters jump on him, laughing and throwing confetti and wishing him a happy birthday.

He knows they mean well. He knows this, but he is so tired and he just wants to rest.

Before he can stop himself, he snaps at them to be quiet, pushes them out of his room, and slams the door in their faces. His hand is still on the doorknob when the regret hits him like a brick, and he yanks the door open immediately, pulling them into his arms, and apologizes for losing his temper.

They hug him back, and they forgive him, and soon, they are all smiles again, laughing like nothing ever happened.

But Adam can't bring himself to smile.

He can't unsee the look on their faces when he yelled at them. It's an expression he's seen many times before, one he knows by heart.

It was fear he saw in their eyes.

It's the same way they look at their father.

...

The only thing Adam ever wanted to do was protect the people he loves.

But he couldn't protect his mother, and he was too late to save his sister, and worst of all, he feels himself turning into the very monster they need to be protected from.

The only thing Adam ever wanted to do was protect the people he loves.

So he protects them.

From himself.

...

Here's the thing about boys like Adam, poor boys from small towns who have been broken by their families.

The world is cruel to them.

It doesn't give them many options, and in fact, it only really gives them one – the military.

So Adam enlists, and he packs a bag, and he says his goodbyes, and he leaves.

He's halfway down the road when his mother calls his name, and he turns as she throws her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek. When she pulls away, she is smiling, even though there are tears on her face.

 _I love you_ , she whispers. _Be free_.

It sounds so simple the way she says it. And maybe it is.

He continues down the road, and the further he gets from home, the lighter he feels. By the time he makes it to base, he truly believes this could be a fresh start. But then he gets his supplies, and then he gets his uniform, and suddenly, it's like all his worst fears come true.

When he puts on his fatigues and looks at himself in the mirror, he sees everything his father wanted him to be.

And this is the greatest tragedy.


End file.
